


The Possibility of Everywhere

by Lihai



Category: Dí Rénjié | Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lihai/pseuds/Lihai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pei Donglai survives and doesn't really want to dwell on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Possibility of Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [troisroyaumes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/troisroyaumes/gifts).



One thing Pei Donglai had not counted on about death was the tedium.

From his experience, he deduced that the end of life would be an agony-racked transition, perhaps brief, more likely prolonged. He certainly did not foresee these stretches of nothingness, the bursts of pain that crashed against his senses before ebbing away and waiting to pounce on him unawares. His perception of the pain as a sentient, malevolent being puzzled him, for he was not given to flights of imagination. Probably this untypical behavior was a preliminary taste of what being shoved into Hell was like.

Get on with it, he wanted to growl, but his vocal cords seemed to have been misplaced.

Once he felt himself drifting past the giant statue. It had grown so tall that not even the waist was visible from below. Pei Donglai narrowed his eyes up at the marvelous structure, sensing it would tumble down and crush him to - what? A second death? Or would it set itself on black fire?

Die Renjie was standing next to him, swathed in prison robes. On his open palm lay two piles of ash. From a certain angle, they resembled a bird's body and its severed head. As Pei Donglai looked, the beaks shivered, opened.

"You are growing lazy, brother," the bird reproached him. "The Empress would be displeased if you don't report in soon."

"The Empress is dead," he croaked in a tiny voice, another pulverized bird. The contentment he felt from uttering those words was, for the moment, disturbing.

*

For some time after he bludgeoned his way back into consciousness, the only person he saw was the wiry old woman. The hut they were in, she claimed, was not hers, just a place she rented. She nursed him with the efficient roughness of a seasoned war nurse, for which he enjoyed her company.

"When can I have visitors?" he asked.

"When you can eat a whole meal without puking your guts out, so put your mind to it. Expecting someone?"

The question was rhetorical, so he dug into the unsalted carp soup without further comment.

*

On the fourth afternoon, when the old woman was out shopping, Pei Donglai's nap was disrupted by a palpable tension in the air. The tension was both familiar and curious: while he recognized it as being generated by a group of people with malicious intent, he could not fathom why they were here. The old woman had told him that not only the Empress was unharmed after the statue's fall, the mastermind behind the murder plan had also died. Pei Donglai's own demise would benefit nobody. Probably these people just wanted to vent their anger on a relevant target.

He slipped into his shoes, then stood in the middle of the earthen floor, breathed in, listened, breathed out slowly. Three people, four at the most. Although muscular atrophy and headaches were no longer a major problem for him, the men might bring chains - again - or other long-range weapons. If he was to survive this barehanded, he had to outwit them fast. As if in defiance to this plan, a vein throbbed sickeningly in his temple.

Such annoying details, he thought, just as three black-clad, masked figures burst through the front door.

Two of them immediately closed in on Pei Donglai, swinging iron clubs. He dodged at the last minute, grimaced as one of the clubs bounced off his elbow. The third assailant stabbed a dagger at the space where Pei Donglai's arm had been less than a second ago, then again at the empty space where he had nearly leaped at. Pei Donglai rushed at the door as the three assailants moved toward him in unison.

Nausea overtook him with the force of a squall; he was forced to pause, one foot still over the threshold. Then the spell passed just as quickly, leaving a bitter taste down his throat. His attackers had stopped as well - fearing, he assumed, that he would retch all over them.

"Here to avenge your boss?" he managed. Having been deprived of the sunlight for so long, he discovered that being thrust back into it was not at all unpleasant. In fact, the warmth coursing across his exposed skin was nothing short of invigorating. He had time to notice that the hut was surrounded by an expanse of grass and stunted pine trees before the attackers launched themselves at him.

They aimed their weapons at various parts of his body, their movements often clumsy but determined. He swirled around with a grace that surprised even him; one foot lashed out at the attacker with the dagger, the heel slamming squarely against the back of his neck. The man staggered, momentarily out of balance.

His companions fell upon Pei Donglai with unabated vigor, their iron clubs raining down on him, cutting off his path again and again. He evaded as best as he could, understanding all too well that soon one of those clubs would crack his skull open. His previous grace was gone, some of his joints still felt loose, and he had not eaten much all day. A glance at the dagger wielder told him that the man was recovering and about to join the fray. The thought that he would die - for real, this time - without knowing why filled Pei Donglai with slow-burning rage.

A small, slender object flashed through the air; one of the iron club wielders cried out and everyone froze, watching him as he crumpled to the ground. Seizing his chance, Pei Donglai grabbed the other club wielder by the wrist and twisted with all his strength. As he had guessed, his opponent reacted by shooting out his free hand to punch Pei Donglai in the face. Pei Donglai kneed him hard in the upper abdomen, below the ribs, and the second club wielder too collapsed. Behind him, the dagger wielder had followed suit.

Chest heaving with exertion, legs shaking, Pei Donglai stumbled away from the fallen men. Without his ax and full health, he had been reduced to a mere street brawler; this nearly rekindled the slow rage before relief snuffed it out. He glared at the figure standing near the stunted trees.

"Now that you finally care to show up, I demand an explanation."

"It's simple," Die Renjie said. "I figured you should be left on your own until you're strong enough to talk comfortably - four days was my estimation. The small knives were simply an extra precaution when I left home. I wouldn't have guessed I'd have to use them for you."

He waited while Pei Donglai went around to make sure the attackers would never rise to bother anybody ever again. By now Pei Donglai was drenched in sweat, secretly longing for his bed. However, he refused to give Die Renjie the satisfaction.

"So not all the conspirators have been caught," he observed.

"I believe they have. These fellows might have nothing to do with the murder plot. How many enemies have you made during your career?"

"Countless, a few - I never kept a tally. Now tell me why I'm still alive after they showered me with the bugs."

The complacent expression that Shangguan Jing'er had found so unbearable crossed over Die Renjie's features. "Who said they did? They only beat you up so thoroughly that they were convinced you'd died. If I didn't find you in time and Mother Bao wasn't here to care for you, you might as well have."

With each word, Pei Donglai's stubborn refusal to thank Die Renjie - damn the man - felt even more childish. "So you saved me."

"Pretty much, yes. Your color doesn't look so good. Shall we get you inside?"

Once he reached his bed, Pei Donglai, instead of lying down, sat on the edge. Die Renjie's appreciative gaze roamed around the hut and the array of bottles on the table. He began to murmur something, but Pei Donglai cut him short.

"I'm going to have to leave this hut."

"Mother Bao won't be happy with that. She dislikes seeing her patients off before they recover."

"I bet she likes assassins with a grudge even less."

Die Renjie tugged at his ridiculously well-combed beard. "Where are you going, exactly?"

Asked by another person, the question sounded even starker. Pei Donglai closed his eyes. Where was he going, indeed? Serving the Empress was the most obvious, and yet also absurd, answer. He had failed her once. For some masters and mistresses, failure equaled a weakness, unreliability.

"Your Majesty will understand." Die Renjie sat down beside Pei Donglai. The fragrance of a refreshing bath hung mist-like about him. Was he staying somewhere nearby, then, and able to reach this hut in less time than it took to blink? Was throwing knives at assassins not a sweaty work?

More flights of imagination, Pei Donglai mused. The descent into Hell had well and truly started.

"It's not her," he admitted. "It's me. Being captured so easily was humiliating. That's not going to happen again."

Neither said anything for several long seconds. Pei Donglai thought of the ash-bird in his dream and his reply to its words of caution. He would have no real trouble finding another place outside the palace, but that was not the concern, of course.

"Old enemies are bothersome," he said to the floor.

"You could benefit from an extra pair of eyes. I might not serve the Empress for very long after the incident."

The offer did not grate on Pei Donglai as it should have. "Don't inconvenience yourself on my behalf, ever."

Die Renjie nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling, and Pei Donglai gave up.


End file.
